


Multifandom Tumblr Ficlets

by Medie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Losers (2010)
Genre: M/M, Tumblr made me do it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-06 19:43:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1870011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ficlets written from tumblr prompts</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thank Fuck Cougar Can Handle Jensen (or Aisha'd Kill Us All)

You learn a lot of things with the Losers. Most of them are illegal pretty much anywhere on the planet, the solar system, with Pluto possibly being the sole exception (because fuck you, Earth, that's why), but there is one lesson above all that you learn real quick.

Never, ever let Jensen get bored. Seriously. Ever. Like, at all. Start a land war in Asia if you have to, but for the love of God do NOT let that kid get bored.

Roque learned it in a little shithole apartment in Johannesburg. Me in Minsk. Cougar? Well, Cougar just sort of always understood. Cougar's got a tendency that way and especially where Jensen's concerned.

Don't precisely know when he started up, but along the lines, Cougar sort of just appointed himself to run interference. Like that time we were in the belly of a rusted out tanker somewhere in the middle of the South China Sea. Still don't know what the hell Jensen was doing with his computer, but it was 'compiling' or some shit and we were all about ready for some rack time when we hear Jensen say, "I've got one word for you: sing-along!"

I swear to God Aisha was going to kill the kid right there. She goes that kind of still somebody goes home in pieces, but Cougar is faster on his feet than he is quiet. Don't know what he said, don't care, but whatever it was, it worked: the boys disappeared out the door and I shot a look Pooch's way.

"Know we're not getting paid much at all these days, Clay," he says, yawning, "but we really owe Cougar one hell of a raise."

Man's not wrong, but pretty sure nobody has that kind of money. Not even Max.


	2. Just Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stucky ficlet (NSFW), from a tumblr prompt "Just Once"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anon from prompt #23 on [this meme](http://medieisme.tumblr.com/post/126699674532/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you)

Never fails, his guy. The sun even thinks about rising and, like fucking clockwork, Stevie's up and on the move. The guy's worse than the fucking mailman. Neither rain, nor sleet, nor the biggest goddamn storm of the century will keep Steven Grant Rogers in bed.

First hint of morning and the little bastard's climbing over Bucky and hot-footing it over the frigid floor, out of reach and so fucking pleased with himself over it. 

"Some morning, I'm gonna catch you, y'know," Bucky mumbles into his pillow. "Just once, Steve, you're sleeping in like the rest of us."

He braces for it, but the ice cold hands splaying across his back still suck every goddamn bit of heat right out of his body.

What he mutters into the pillow would have his Ma reaching for the soap and he'd even be sorry about it.

Steve just laughs. "Not gonna happen, Buck."

He always does this and he always dances out of reach before Bucky can grab him, laughing with glee even though his teeth are fucking chattering.

Not this morning.

This time, Bucky's hand darts out with a gleam of metal and Steve's caught. There's a burst of surprised laughter and then he's rolling on top of a body that's a lot bigger, and warmer, than his dream, but the face is the same.

"We did this before," he says, quietly, still marveling at the dream and the memory in it, "but you always got away."

"You were slower," Steve agrees just as quiet, but his smile is the same as Bucky remembers. Better, even. "And I was smaller."

"Slippery as fuck," Bucky grumbles, but his hands are moving over Steve's chest. If he tries, he can almost feel the smaller, thinner chest, but he can remember other times too. This Steve with this body and the cool of a winter morning in a country he can't remember the name of. Doesn't matter. He's remembering what matters.

Like what happens when he flicks thumbs over Steve's nipples. The reaction's immediate and goddamn beautiful. His guy's body just _perks_. Steve's nipples tighten as his breath catches, and Bucky's murmuring, "God, you're fucking gorgeous," before he really even thinks to say the words.

Red creeps into Steve's cheeks, just enough, and Bucky's memory might be nothing but swiss cheese, but goddamn he remembers _that_. Clung to it for years without even really knowing who it was or what it meant; just that it mattered. _He_ mattered.

Bucky slides down the length of him, pressing him into the mattress, and the look on Stevie's face just keeps getting better and better. "Better not have plans today, Stevie," he says with satisfaction, curling his hand around Steve's cock and savoring the way he whimpers shamelessly. He squeezes just a little and Stevie rucks up, trying to fuck his hand, and, yeah, no, not yet. Definitely not yet. "Think we're gonna take our time with this," he decides, working Steve just enough to make him whine. "Just once? You and me are going to spend the day in bed like regular people."

He thinks about it and then grins. "Well, maybe not _regular_ people. What I'm gonna do to you? They wish."

Probably not what ol' doc Erskine had in mind, but hey, his guy's fucking earned it and Bucky? Bucky always makes sure Steve gets what Steve needs.

Twice on Sundays if he's able.


End file.
